The First Cold Night
by Tronnie
Summary: One night Arthur gives Merlin a chore that ends him up sleeping in Arthur's bed-just sleeping-on a cold winter night. Fluff, G, most likely better than it sounds :


It was the first really cold day of winter and Merlin's chores had had him outside in it all day—from practice fighting with Arthur, to running errands around town, and then cleaning for Arthur's horses. Now as he stumbles into Arthur's chambers that evening with his dinner, he sighs with gra titude at the warmth of the room. His fingers that curl around the tray of food are numb, and his muscles aching.

Arthur looks up when he enters and comes to sit at the table where Merlin's put the food. Merlin slouches into an empty chair and starts to doze off when he's awoken by a slightly annoyed: "Um, _Merlin_?"

"Wha—?"

Arthur gives him an un-amused stare as he chews a drumstick. "You could, I don't know, _finish_ the work to be done here before sleeping. You could fold up the clothes, or turn down the bed. Or at least stoke the fire."

"'M not sleeping…"

"Yes you were. You were starting to drool too."

Merlin spares a little of his remaining energy to glare at him. "Well, it's easy for you to say, isn't it? Been nice and comfy inside all day—what—_brushing your hair_?" He glanced away and grumbled, "No, wait, that's something I do for you."

Arthur gives him an indignant look. "Brushing my hair? I'm not a _girl_, Merlin. And I'll have you know you're not the only one who's worked hard today."

"Uh-huh." Merlin doesn't feel like getting into it with him now.

Arthur gives a disgusted huff when he realizes Merlin's not going to retaliate, and rips back into his chicken.

After a moment Merlin drags himself out of the chair with a groan and heads towards the armor and clothes that are strewn around the floor where Arthur had _managed for himself_ and undressed without his help.

There's a long pause as Arthur watches him work, then: "Merlin. I have something more important for you to do—just leave those for now."

Merlin stands up and looks uncertainly at him. "What is it?"

Arthur gestures with the drumstick towards the bed. "The last few nights my bed's been freezing."

A long pause and a dead stare as Merlin waits for more out of him. "…Okay?"

Arthur raises an eyebrow expectantly.

Merlin shifts, looks from the bed to Arthur. "Well, I'm very sorry you have such terrible princely woes, but there's not much I can do about that. It's just something everyone has to get through the first five minutes of the night…"

Arthur glowers at him. "It has to be warmed with body heat."

"Exactly."

"But not necessarily _my_ body heat. Come on, Merlin, _think_. This'll be easy, something even you can do—just go _lay_ there and warm it up. I'm going to finish eating and by then it'll be nice and warm, see? It's the least you can do, really."

Merlin rolls his eyes, but Arthur has already turned back to eating. The only thing more he gets out of him is a: "Oh, and don't get my bed dirty. If you're clothes are dirty, take them off."

Merlin glares incredulously at him, because it's _freezing_ and he doesn't _want_ to take off anything.

But Arthur's not paying attention, so Merlin just throws up his hands in defeat and tugs down the blankets. After kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jacket he climbs in and lies back against the pillows. He felt himself sink into the pillows and shivered once at the cold sheets, but it didn't seem that bad, and it was so _comfortable_ he felt his achy muscles loosen and relax almost upon impact with the cushions.

Arthur finished eating and pushed his plate away. "Alright Merlin, I'm finished, so you can—" He turned as he spoke and stopped when he saw Merlin—

—who was fast asleep in _his_ bed.

Arthur rubbed his brow tiredly, and resisted the urge to storm over, wake him, and order him out. He really _had_ been working as hard as Merlin that day—well maybe not _as_ hard—but he knew how he felt. How tired he was. So he just sighed and crossed to the bed. He looked at Merlin's sleeping form, face buried in the pillows, and decided he wasn't going to disturb him, not this time.

He shrugged out of is shirt (yes, he could undress himself—he _was_ the future king of Camelot, he did have _some_ skills) and climbed into the other side of his bed.

He lay on his back and looked over his shoulder at Merlin, wondering if he could sleep on only half a bed. He'd never done it before. He rolled his eyes as Merlin started to snore quietly, but couldn't bring himself to be really annoyed, and smiled a little before drifting off to sleep himself.

When Arthur woke up it was to the sun on his face, sun that was much brighter than it should have been at that hour of the morning. And he soon realized with slight panic that that was because it wasn't _that_ hour of the morning and that he was late.

Because Merlin had never come in to wake him up.

Because Merlin didn't have to come in.

Because Merlin was already there. In his bed. Right_ next to him._

Arthur was still lying on his back, and when he turned his head to the side—back to where it had been minutes before, his face ended up buried in Merlin's hair. Merlin was curled along his side with his head tucked up under Arthur's chin, resting on his shoulder. With his face caught where it was, he took a breath and realized Merlin's scent had become familiar over the course of the night. He wondered at which point they had migrated to the center of the bed to—god help him—_cuddle _against each other.

Arthur would have groaned and rolled his eyes, but the absurdity of the situation and the instinct to panic stopped him. It was the same instinct that told him to get his ass in gear, disentangle himself from Merlin and sneak away as fast as possible so he could brush this off later and blame it on Merlin. This would just have to be one of those things they never spoke of again (there seemed to be a _lot_ of those nowadays).

Right. So. First: move his arm that's around Merlin's waist—slowly—and…

"Mm…what's…Arthur?"

_Dammit. _

Merlin was still groggy as he lifted his head and squinted at him. As their situation sunk in, Merlin's eyes widened and he started to pull away at the same time that Arthur did. ("Oh god—") But Merlin's arm was wound around Arthur's chest ("Wait, Ar—") and, before he could pull it away, ("Merlin, don't—") they both tried to roll apart and Arthur trapped it under him again by accident. Merlin was still no match for him strength wise, and before Arthur even knew what happened, his roll had tugged Merlin right over on top of him.

Merlin lay on top of him for a few seconds, neither of them moving, while he panicked and blushed and waited for Arthur to punch him or something. But instead Arthur leveled a glance at him and spoke in very measured tones. "Merlin."

"…Yes, Arthur?"

"I told myself I wasn't going to ask, but—_why _were you sleeping…like that…with me last night?"

"I—but, Arthur… you were…doing it too."

"I _was not._"

"Yes you were. I remember." Merlin's blush reached his ears, and he avoided Arthur's eyes. "Don't tell me it wasn't real." Arthur barely caught this last sentence.

At about that moment, they both remembered the position they were still in, and quickly scrambled apart, sitting awkward and hunched on the farthest edges of the bed. Merlin faced away from Arthur and ran his hands nervously through his hair, and Arthur regarded Merlin's back thoughtfully, replaying Merlin's last sentence. The silence wore on for a while until Arthur thought Merlin might be _sulking_ or something. So he figured he'd better say _something_, and—why the hell not—it might as well be heartfelt, since Merlin's had been, and came out with: "Well…it _was_ real. And nice."

At the same time that Merlin said: "I never knew you were so…_warm_."

They looked at each other in stunned silence for a heartbeat until Merlin sniggered and Arthur burst out laughing. Like a bubble, all the tension burst and Arthur grabbed him in a chokehold. "And there I thought you were actually _brooding_."

Merlin laughed and pushed at his side, finally freeing himself and sitting upright.

Arthur grinned and then turned back to him, putting on a mock-serious face. "So, I trust you'll not speak of this again to anyone, hmm?"

"Yeah, okay," a pause, "Arthur?"

"…What?"

"So, when I was…on top of you…did I feel…I mean, were you—?"

"Merlin, if you finish that sentence, _I will kill you_. Personally. A thousand different ways."

"M'kay. You know, it's perfectly fine if you were. I mean, it _was_ morning—not like it was _obviously_ because of me or anything."

"Merlin, I'm getting my sword. _Right now_."

"What? It was a different sentence!"


End file.
